


Operation Virgin

by captainswanparrilla



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 21:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14481222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainswanparrilla/pseuds/captainswanparrilla
Summary: Pepper Potts has never played Operation, so Tony Stark takes it upon himself to teach her.





	Operation Virgin

“Tony? Tony? Are you here?”

Pepper wandered around through the house, her eyes scanning the kitchen and the living room before turning up with nothing. She sighed. He knew he was supposed to be there to go over the details for the stockholders meeting they had scheduled for the next day. She’d told him four times and left a reminder on his phone.

“JARVIS, is Tony here?” she asked the machine as she glanced toward the stairs to his workshop.

“Yes, Miss Potts. Mr. Stark is upstairs in the den.”

The den? Pepper’s head tilted in confusion as she wondered what reason he could have for being in that room. He never hung out in there unless he’d shanghaied her into playing one of his ridiculous video games. Maybe that’s what he was doing. Of course he’d be blowing the heads off of aliens instead of doing what she told him.

She ventured upstairs, her heels clicking loudly with each step. When she reached the top, she could hear the faint sound of classic rock music wafting through the air. She turned the corner to see Tony sitting at the coffee table. There was a box in front of him with a white cloth draped delicately over it.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He didn’t even look in her direction as he said, “Do you remember that day that you helped me change the reactor?”

“Vividly,” she replied with a shudder. Never, ever, ever would she do that again. It had scared her beyond belief, not to mention it took forty-three hand washes to get the stench of plasmic discharge off.

“Come sit with me,” he said, patting the spot next to him.

“Tony, we’re supposed to be working.”

“We’ll work. First, you’ll sit.”

“I’ll sit and then you’ll distract me,” she said. She complied anyway out of sheer desperation to get off her feet. She needed to buy a pair of business flats or she was going to end up having to amputate her toes. She already couldn’t feel them. “What do you want? And what does this have to do with the reactor?”

He glanced up. His eyes were sparkling and that was never a good sign. It meant he was up to no good. “I have a proposition for you, Miss Potts.”

She raised an eyebrow. She was right. He had something up his sleeve and by the mischievous glint that was dancing around in his eyes, it wouldn’t turn out in her favor. “And what would that be, Mr. Stark?”

“Well, you remember me mentioning a game called Operation,” he began, “and you had no idea what it was?”

“Vaguely,” she answered. She figured it was something dirty, like playing doctor.

“Okay, then you’re in for a treat today,” he said. He stood, and with a sweep of his wrist he plucked off the white cloth and revealed a box with the title ‘Operation’ scribbled on the front. He lifted the top and she saw what resembled an actual operating table with slots for game pieces. “Ta da!”

She leaned forward to examine the board. She saw a pair of tweezers that were connected to the table and noticed that the man–who she was guessing would be their patient–had a nose that rivaled Rudolph’s. “You wanted to show me this?”

“Better,” he said. He lifted the table out of the box and set it up. He put tiny little white pieces into each of the slots, as well as one rubber band. There were cards and paper money but he neglected them. “I want us to play it.”

“You want to play a game directed at children ages six and up?” she asked skeptically.

“We’re up, aren’t we? Come on, it’ll be fun. I still have that proposition for you.”

“I thought the game was the proposition?”

“No, the game is to determine the winner. You want me to work. I don’t want to. I figure, with the stipulations I’ve put into play, we can wager a bet.”

She didn’t like the odds. She’d never played the game and he was a seasoned veteran, not to mention a glorious cheater. The last time they’d played a game, it was Yahtzee and he’d had JARVIS rig the dice. She didn’t even know how it worked. “On one condition.”

“And that is?”

“You have to be fair and tell me how things work honestly. You have to give me clear rules, regulations and terms that we both have to follow. No cheating. No lying. No foul play.”

“Ohhh, I love it when you talk business to me,” he purred near her ear. “It’s sexy.”

“Get serious, or the deal’s off,” she said sternly, trying to ignore the heat of his breath.

He sat up straight, his demeanor quickly changing. “See the white pieces inside? All you have to do is pull them out with the tweezers without touching the sides. If you touch the sides, his nose will glow and it’ll buzz and vibrate. In normal games, that means you lose a point or a turn or whatever, but that’s not how we’re doing it. In our game, the first person to touch the sides three times loses.”

“And what does the winner get?”

“If you win, I’ll do the work and not complain about it. If I win, I don’t have to do the work and you can’t complain about it. Deal?”

“Deal,” she said. They shook hands and he smirked. “But no funny business or you’re doing the work alone.”

“Scout’s honor. Now start pulling. You’re the Operation Virgin and you’re a lady, so naturally you get the first removal.”

“What? How is that fair? I don’t even get to see how it’s done first?”

“It’s not rocket science,” he said.

She wasn’t too worried. She had fairly steady hands. She’d helped Tony hold things in the shop when it was imperative she didn’t falter. She still had grease stains on one her best blouses because of it. She could do it. She could beat him. “Wait a minute. What if neither of us reaches three buzzes?”

“Then the one with the most amount of buzzes loses,” he clarified.

“And if we tie, or don’t get any buzzes at all?”

It was clear he hadn’t thought of that possibility. He raked his genius brain for a few minutes and then said, “We’ll have to play again.”

“Nope. One game. That’s all I signed up for.”

“Fine. If neither of us loses, I’ll do half the work and you’ll do half.”

That was the likely scenario anyway, but she still agreed. Having him help a little was better than being completely alone. At least he could crack idiotic and inappropriate jokes to lighten the mood. They shook hands again and she surveyed the board before picking up the tweezers. “What do I pull first?”

“I guess we could choose for each other,” he suggested. “That would be more fun.”

“That’s fine.” He’ll probably give me all of the hard ones, she thought.

“Get the writer’s cramp,” he said. “You probably get those all the time.”

By the markings on the board, she saw that it was on the arm. She took a deep breath and gently squeezed the tweezers around the small piece. She held the air in her lungs as she lifted it. When the buzzer didn’t sound, she exhaled and set the piece aside.

“Brain freeze,” she said.

“You think I get brain freezes a lot?” he asked as she handed him the tweezers.

“I know you do. Whenever you eat ice cream or drink a slushie too fast your eyebrows scrunch up and you try to pretend you’re not in pain.”

“Very observant, Miss Potts,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“I have to be, Mr. Stark,” she said softly.

He pulled out the brain freeze with practiced ease. She was jealous. He knew how to do it. He wasn’t nervous at all. The again, when was Tony ever nervous?

“Okay, Pep. Wrenched ankle, cause I still don’t see how you walk in those heels.”

Pepper smiled. She prepared herself and once again pulled out the piece with no buzzing. She was proud.

“Did you deactivate it?” he asked, checking the switch. When he saw that it was on, he frowned. He couldn’t understand how she was doing so well.

“Breadbasket,” Pepper said, bringing his attention back.

She watched his facial expressions carefully. It was obviously one of the more difficult ailments to remove. He studied it for a moment and then plunged the tweezers in. When it didn’t buzz, she rolled her eyes.

“Disappointed I didn’t stumble over that breadbasket?” he asked, his tone layered with smugness.

“I think it’s hilarious,” she said, “that a man who’s about to lose is so condescending.”

“If you think I’m so hilarious, why don’t you do the funny bone?”

“My pleasure,” she said, snatching the tweezers. The atmosphere was changing. It was heated, maybe even slightly sexually charged. He was using his charms to deflect her focus and she wasn’t about to let that happen. If anything, his teasing was fueling her urge to win. She ignored his eyes on her back as she successfully removed the funny bone.

“Who’s disappointed now?” she baited.

In true Tony fashion, he stuck his tongue out at her. “Please. The funny bone isn’t even hard. I’m giving you the easy ones first and saving the hard for last.”

“Sure. You can’t believe I’m doing so good, can you?”

“Just give me my piece,” he said, frustrated.

“Spare ribs.”

He pulled it out, discarding it into their growing pile.

“Water on the knee,” he instructed.

Another piece extracted with no buzzing. She could sense the frustration emulating from Tony. He was always a sore loser.

“Adam’s apple,” she said.

“You like my Adam’s apple?” he asked with a suggestive eyebrow raise.

She involuntarily blushed. “Who in the world is attracted to an Adam’s apple?”

“You,” he said simply. “I’ve seen you staring at my neck when I talk.”

“I don’t.”

“I know you do, so why are you bothering to deny it?”

“Because you’re impossible and you make up scenarios in your mind about women and their non-existent fantasies.”

“I didn’t say it was a fantasy,” he laughed. “You just admitted you have a fantasy about me.”

She pretended to be disgusted. In actuality, he did have a kissable looking Adam’s apple and her eyes had wandered there from time to time. “Just take your turn.”

The next thing she knew, the apple was out. He ordered her to take out the ankle bone connected to the knee bone, which was painfully easy. She picked out the Charley horse for him. It proved to be the most difficult, as he scowled at it for what seemed like forever.

“Having a problem?” she asked, glancing over his hunched shoulder.

“Give me some space,” he said, swatting at her.

“You afraid I’m going to mess you up?” she taunted.

Tony turned to face her. “I suggest you remember the rules of this game. You said no cheating and you’re distracting me. Try it again and I’m going to have to make you do all the work yourself.”

Pepper pursed her mouth together and laid back against the cushions of the couch. He had turned her own precautions against her. She folded her arms over her chest as she waited another ten minutes. He finally pulled the Charley horse out unscathed, much to her chagrin.

“Only three left,” he said. “No buzzes.”

“I’m aware,” she said.

“Are you having fun?” he asked.

He sounded vulnerable. It was then when she realized he might not actually be putting her through the game to get out of working. Maybe he wanted to spend time with her. Maybe he needed to be close to someone.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, “I am.”

He took a deep breath and said, “Wishbone.”

“You wish you could win,” she started, “but you’ll be getting the short end of the bone.”

The wishbone was out and on the table in a matter of seconds. She glanced over and Tony was studying the board. There were two pieces remaining.

“You think either one of us will get a buzz?” Tony asked.

Feeling brave and courageous, Pepper said, “I don’t know, but I have butterflies in my stomach.”

Their eyes met. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. Operation was a bad idea. Bad, bad, bad. Anytime they weren’t doing legitimate work together, it was dangerous. Lethal. It didn’t help that his guard was down. It didn’t help that she was being drawn to him like a mouth to a deadly flame. She couldn’t stand it. His eyes were perfect. If she kept staring–oh, God, did he just lean in closer to her face?–she was going to get lost in them.

She broke the gaze first. She shifted her eyes to the game-board, cleared her throat nervously, and asked, “Can I get the butterflies?”

Confused, he said, “But, it’s my turn.”

“Can I get it over with?” she asked desperately.

“Of course,” he said. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled out the butterfly. Her hands were shaking, but she never heard a buzz.

“I guess that means I get the broken heart,” he said sadly.

“I guess,” she whispered.

She wasn’t paying attention anymore. The game didn’t matter. She could see that he was struggling with something. Since he came back, he’d been different in the best way, but he’d had an existential crisis. It seemed as if he didn’t understand the meaning of life anymore and was searching for a reason. Maybe she was the reason?

When she heard the buzz, her eyes widened and her mouth dropped. When she looked at Tony, he had his head in his hands. He groaned and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“You just lost,” she said. “I just beat you in my first ever game of Operation.”

He said something, but she couldn’t understand. It came out muffled by his fingers. She felt a sense of pride and triumph. She didn’t think she could do it. She didn’t honestly believe she was going to beat him. But, it didn’t feel as good as it should’ve. She was still wondering why he was so open, so raw with his emotions.

When he lowered his hands, his face was expressionless. “I guess that means you can hand over the papers and go home if you want.”

She shook her head. “We’re splitting up the work.”

“But you won. Tony Stark doesn’t go back on his word,” he said, stopping for a moment before adding, “much.”

“I know. The fact that you want to honor the deal is enough for me. Besides, I think you were a little distracted.”

He smirked. “By what?”

She blushed. “Mr. Stark, I think we should get to work.”

His eyes softened as he looked at her. The woman who got him through hell. He’d never tell her that the whole Operation ruse was to spend quality time with her. Whenever they were together they were working or preparing for work or talking about work. He wanted show her he could be a better man than he was before. He wanted to show her he cared. What better way to do that then pulling organs out of a guy with a light bulb for a nose?

He saw the pink tinge to her cheeks, the faraway glow of her eyes, the trembling of her hands as she stood and grabbed the papers from the arm of the couch. He knew they were making progress. Slow and steady. He knew she was starting to fall, and when she did, he’d be there to catch her.

“As you wish, Miss Potts,” he said, standing and following her down to the living room. “But, I’m ordering pizza first!”


End file.
